“What else did she get?” Donovan asked.
“The details that sell the whole thing.” Montero emptied the contents. “We have a student identification card for the Florida Institute of Technology, a gym membership, three credit cards, several receipts, a picture of a cat, and an assortment of coupons.”
“Nice touches,” Donovan said as Sofya opened her new purse and removed the wallet that still had the tags attached. “What’s in the third envelope?”
“Cash. I didn’t want to resort to using an ATM,” Montero said as she presented Sofya with a rather worn billfold that she’d already emptied. “Here, Sofya, use my old one.”
“Why?” Sofya asked.
“Law enforcement can get suspicious when everything looks brand new. We’ll swap. Give me the one you bought. If anyone asks, you’re an intern working for Eco-Watch, studying solar storms.”
“Montero, I’ve cleared customs with you before,” Donovan said. “All they do is focus on you. It seems like every single person in law enforcement knows who you are.”
“Well, I was on the cover of TIME magazine.” Montero shrugged as if it were no big deal.
“What did you do?” Sofya asked, looking expectantly at Montero.
“Long story,” Montero said, as she collected the empty envelopes and began ripping them into pieces. “Oh, I found an article in this morning’s Minneapolis Star Tribune about some of the car accidents last night in and around the metro area. Most are being blamed on the weather. One accident killed three people in downtown Minneapolis after their car was hit by a truck as they traveled the wrong way down a one-way street. Out on the interstate, two occupants received medical care for non–life threatening injuries after the driver lost control of their SUV while traveling at high speed. Both men were turned over to the St. Cloud County Sheriff to face outstanding warrants in Minneapolis, as well as St. Paul. I have their names; they’re both Russian nationals in the country on student visas.”
“What’s your name?” Donovan said as he turned to Sofya in an effort to catch her off-guard.
“Sofya Wilkins,” she replied evenly. “I live at nine fifty-six University Boulevard, apartment three-twenty, in Melbourne, Florida.”
Donovan’s phone buzzed and he recognized the caller. “Thank God,” he said, enormously relieved that William was returning his calls.
“Come on, Sofya,” Montero said. “We’ll give Donovan some privacy.”
“I was starting to worry about you,” Donovan said as he answered the call. “Where are you?”
“I’m in Washington,” William said. “Working long hours on State Department business.”
“Have you spoken to Lauren or Stephanie? Are you up to speed about current events?”
“I was going to call Lauren and Stephanie next, but I wanted to talk to you first. I received a detailed assessment from Montero a few hours ago. You landed a Gulfstream on a frozen lake?”
“It sounds riskier than it was.” Donovan knew it was a weak deflection, and that, as usual, William was worried for his safety. “It was no big deal, and we did save the woman. We’re about to go back up there and see if we can uncover some answers.”
“Montero suspects that the woman, as well as her adversaries, might have ties to Russia. At the moment, watching from the sideline, everything that’s happening seems reactive and dangerous.”
“We’re taking precautions; Montero is involved, and we think we can be in and out of Manitoba before anyone knows we’re there.”
“Are you sure that’s the best play?” William said.
“What’s going on?” Donovan asked.
“You know you’ve had the Russians’ respect for years, going back to when you and Michael saved one of their submarines. That, coupled with your recent accomplishments in Eastern Europe, and I’ve been able to leverage your actions to create some meaningful discussions with senior members of the Politburo. These are delicate negotiations—we’re pushing aside generations of distrust, so all I’m asking is for you not to be in the line of fire.”
Donovan frowned; the request from William had suddenly expanded beyond normal proportions. In the nearly four decades that William had been a father figure, mentor, and business partner, Donovan wasn’t sure that he’d ever heard William directly wave him off. If anything, William was usually Donovan’s greatest supporter. The elder statesman was always the cool and calm one, the unwavering voice urging Donovan forward.
“Am I asking too much?” William asked.
“I hear you, I really do, but I’m trying to find out who’s threatening my loved ones. There is no force on earth that would allow me to stand aside and let anything happen to the people I care about. You know the list of people I’d take a bullet for, you’re on it. Don’t slow me down with politics on this.”
“Walk away and let me handle this. I’m in a far better position to handle the Russians than you are.”
“We’re dealing with different Russians then. So far we’ve encountered what Montero describes as gang members. They’re punks sent to do grunt work. If I pull on this particular piece of string and it unravels to the point that there are confirmed Russian political implications, I will bring it to you, and defer to your assessment.”
“If that’s the best you can do, I understand.”
Donovan knew he’d drawn a line in the sand that William didn’t like. “I’ll see you for New Year’s Eve, and we’ll talk—everything will be fine.”
“Think back, son, and tell me if everything always turned out fine.”
“That’s a low blow, and you know it.” Donovan disconnected the phone and felt like he’d been blindsided. No, everything hadn’t always turned out fine, but it was unlike William to use that fact as a bludgeon. With frayed and conflicting emotions, Donovan exited the conference room and walked down the hall toward the lobby. The first person he spotted was Montero, and he thought of her loss, the woman in Prague. He thought of the men shooting at his wife and daughter in Austria. William had asked him to back off—but he couldn’t. Too much had already happened, and to walk away now would put everyone at greater risk.
“Donovan,” Montero called out and motioned for him to join her.
“Are we ready?”
“Sofya is in the bathroom, and I haven’t really had a chance to talk to you without her listening. I want you to know that we’re taking a hell of a risk bringing her through Canadian customs. I’m not a doctor, but I’ve seen this more than once. My guess is she has what’s called dissociative amnesia, meaning that all of her memories are in there, somewhere, but something like PTSD cuts them off and blocks the information. She’s traumatized, and I agree with the doctor in the emergency room who believed Sofya had been drugged. One wrong nudge by anyone, a customs official, a waitress, anyone with a uniform, hell it could be someone’s dog that sets her off. It’s rarely a full cognitive recovery; the memories come in clusters and are highly confusing. Or she could implode, have a psychotic break, and we have no real way to explain her presence, or her behavior.”
“You’ve been amazing with her,” Donovan said, not completely surprised by Montero’s warning. “At least for the moment, Sofya seems stable. Do you think she can hold it together for an hour or two?”
“That’s the thing. We are not going to know until it’s too late.”
“We can’t leave her here, and we really need to get inside that airplane. I don’t think we have a choice, for us or her.”
“I agree,” Montero said as she started for the door. “It’s my job to assess the risks, and right now, she’s a big one.”
Donovan nodded as Sofya walked toward them. He really had no idea if she were friend or foe, only that for now she trusted them, and that she was a very lost soul. He collected Sofya and followed Montero out of the lobby, across the snow-packed parking lot to the Lincoln Navigator for the two-hour drive to Winnipeg. As he settled behind the wheel, he turned and found Montero with her hand out.
“Give
me your gun. I think I should hold the weapons through customs.”
Donovan handed over his Sig.
“Okay, here’s our story,” Montero began as they headed the seventy miles that would take them to the Canadian border. “Donovan, you’re my boss, head of Eco-Watch, and we’ve all taken time off from our scientific mission to escort Sofya, who is an intern, to her grandmother’s funeral in Fargo, and we’re scheduled to rendezvous with the Eco-Watch jet in Winnipeg.”
“That’s the story?” Donovan asked.
“Yes. I knew a guy in border protection. He told me once that sick kids and funerals are almost an automatic wave-through. I say we use it. I pulled up some obituaries and I think I have a candidate.”
Donovan listened to Montero and memorized the details, but as the miles rolled past, he kept thinking of William’s words, and he became even angrier at what had been said. He had no doubt that William was fuming as well, and the exchange began to swirl in his mind as he drove. William had swung below the belt in what was clearly a lack of confidence. Donovan’s ghosts were his, and never all that far away, and William knew that fact, thus amplifying the transgression. The bigger question was—what was behind William’s verbal attack? The elder statesman was a consummate diplomat and never lost his temper or flew off the handle. There had to be something specific behind the words, and Donovan found himself wondering if William’s loss of faith in him was an isolated event or if it was a long-held belief that had finally been brought into the light of day. Either way, Donovan couldn’t shake his apprehension of the next confrontation with William.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LAUREN HAD SLIPPED away to the upstairs parlor to call Donovan, and as she said good-bye to him, she spotted Stephanie walking down the hallway toward her.
“I’m not intruding, am I?” Stephanie asked from the doorway.
“No, not at all.” Lauren shook her head. “I just finished.”
“How did he take the news?”
“He was a little freaked out at first. What father wouldn’t be? I calmed him down, and he felt better when he understood where we were, and who we were with. The connection wasn’t very good, but I’m sure he’ll be okay,” Lauren said, but made no move to leave the room and join the others. Over the years, she and Stephanie had grown close and she always loved her compassion and insight.
Stephanie entered the room and closed the door behind her, as if sensing Lauren’s need to talk. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just stressed about what happened at Kristof’s, and then we all barge in here, complete with armed guards. The house is beautiful—all the work you must have done in preparation for New Year’s—and now this.”
Stephanie stepped in to hug Lauren. “I love having everyone here, even if it is a few days early. As for Kristof, he’s an old friend, and though I just met Marta, she’s an absolute delight. If you’ll remember, I was there in Paris with you when Trevor and Reggie swooped in and pulled us off the roof of that building. Class act, that Reggie; Trevor as well. They can stop by anytime.”
Lauren looked up at the ceiling and fought back her tears. “Abigail was so magnificent today. She was in control and coaching me on what to do. I can promise that comes as a shock when it’s from your six-year-old.”
“Let’s not forget who her father is.” Stephanie led them to a sofa and they both sat. “I don’t know what you were like when you were six, but I was always scaring my parents to death. It’s in the job description, I suppose. How you react will shape her perceptions of fear and danger. I’d say you’ve done a brilliant job of being a mom.”
“Thank you, but can you imagine her at twelve if she’s like this at six?”
“By then she’ll have an even larger village looking out for her, just like Uncle William did for Donovan and me when we were growing up. She’ll be fine.”
“Have you heard from Uncle William?” Lauren asked, remembering her unreturned calls.
“I did, but the phone reception was terrible. The effects of the solar storm are starting to hit. I heard there were blackouts in the north, complete electrical grids shutting down.”
“It’s likely to get worse before it gets better. What did William say?”
“He’s working on some high-level diplomatic meeting. He couldn’t talk about any of the particulars, but he says he’s safe, and that he was happy we were as well. He did say that he and Donovan had spoken, but that he didn’t want to discuss it. Did Donovan say anything?”
“No, why?” Lauren’s concern was immediate.
“I don’t know, something seemed off.” Stephanie shrugged. “It could be nothing, just my imagination.”
Lauren decided she couldn’t worry about Donovan and William; there were more pressing matters at hand. She looked up as someone tapped on the door.
“Come in,” Stephanie called.
Lauren smiled as Abigail walked in and she made room for her to climb up beside her.
After a deliberate breath, Abigail began, “Aunt Stephanie, Uncle Kristof told me that you might have some pictures you took of wild horses, and I wondered if maybe you could show them to me?”
“Uncle Kristof has a good memory,” Stephanie said. “I do have a photo album of wild horses that I took near Yellowstone Park. I’d love to show them to you.”
Abigail’s eyes grew wide and she began bouncing up and down, unable to contain her excitement. “Mom, can I have a cookie, no wait, two cookies since I’ve been good. Please?”
“Just one,” Lauren said.
“That particular album is downstairs. Help me get up.” Stephanie held out her arm, and Abigail slid off the couch. Hand in hand, Abigail led the way out the door, nearly running into Marta who was coming down the hall balancing a tray with tea service.
“Would you care for some tea?” Marta said to Lauren after she sidestepped Stephanie and Abigail. “It’s one of the things I learned to enjoy while at school in England.”
“How nice. Sure.”
Lauren’s phone buzzed and she saw the number belonged to Deputy Director Calvin Reynolds from the Defense Intelligence Agency, her supervisor, and long-time friend. “It’s Calvin, I need to take this. Please sit, this shouldn’t take long.”
Marta nodded.
“Calvin, good afternoon.” Lauren was surprised by the amount of audio distortion on the line. Waves of static rose and fell in uneven succession.
“Lauren, can you hear me?”
“Just barely. What’s up?”
“I know you’re with family, and I hate to interrupt you, but we’ve been closely monitoring the geomagnetic situation associated with the current solar storm. I was alerted by NASA’s Solar Dynamics Observatory that they just recorded five powerful solar flares, as well as a high-volume coronal mass ejection. They’re saying that this is bigger than anything we’ve seen—ever.”
“How fast is the shock wave coming?”
“They estimate it at three million miles per hour,” Calvin said. “It’ll be here in roughly thirty-five hours, with a duration of three to four days.”
Lauren processed what Calvin was saying. The most famous storm occurred in March of 1989, when the sun disgorged a huge cloud of super-heated gas. Three days later the Northern Lights were visible as far south as Cuba, and a power grid failure in the Northeast United States plunged over six million people into darkness as their electricity failed. In 2003, a giant solar flare reached Earth in a record nineteen hours and wreaked havoc with dozens of satellites, even destroying Midori-2, a $450 million research platform. If an even larger event hit Earth full force, it could be devastating. Global Positioning Satellites, power grids, as well as radio and satellite communication in the entire Northern Hemisphere, could be compromised.
“Did you hear me?” Calvin asked through the static.
“Yes, I heard you,” Lauren said. “This is a little out of my area of expertise. What is it you want me to do?”
“The Pentagon is worried about the storm. They�
��re requesting that all senior-level analysts be recalled.”
“You’re breaking up,” Lauren said even though she heard Calvin issuing orders that would bring her back to Washington, D.C., and isolate her in a control room at DIA headquarters.
“I said you need to return immediately. Can you catch the next available—”
“I can’t hear you,” Lauren said louder. “The power has been fluctuating, and the Internet is currently down. Calvin? Calvin?” Lauren severed the connection and placed the phone on the table and then looked at Marta.
“You just lied to your boss, didn’t you?”
“Yes. They want to bring me home because the solar storm is getting worse.” Lauren dismissed the idea that she could be of any service to the DIA. The sun was going to do what it was going to do, and the DIA had a room full of astronomers and astrophysicists to advise the Pentagon. Any guilt she had evaporated. “I’m sorry for the interruption. The tea is a nice diversion. Now, what’s up?”
“You don’t miss much do you?”
“You never need to engineer an excuse to talk to me, though I’m assuming this was more to excuse yourself from your dad.”
“Yes. Dad and I were discussing all of the recent events, and I want to run something past you.” Marta paused as if she were collecting her thoughts, and then continued, “I know we’re also invited guests of Stephanie’s, and my God, this house is amazing, but I think Dad and I might leave.”
“And go where?” Lauren asked point blank.
“As you can imagine, Dad is still incensed that someone would attack us at our home in Innsbruck. He’s put out the word through our organization to find those responsible. We have several leads, with one in particular that needs to be investigated.”
“What did you find?”
“We think we found one of the men involved in the death of Montero’s friend inside Interpol. He came to us for help, terrified, after two of his accomplices were killed.”
“Is he still in Prague?”
“No, we’ve had him moved to a safe house across the border in Poland, to a city named Wroclaw. We have a tactical and political advantage in Poland. Lauren, the sooner we can debrief this guy, the better. If we can find out who gave the orders, or better yet, who ended up with the information, we’ll be one step closer to understanding who’s behind all of this. The murder of the Interpol source, the attack on Donovan in Minnesota, Innsbruck, everything starts and ends with this woman Sofya. The man in Wroclaw may hold the answers. As we’re the only ones with the entire picture, Dad and I think we should be there to ask the questions.”
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